MIRANDA

“Mmm.” I lick my lips after I taste the pasta sauce. It’s good. I followed the recipe online but you never know how those will turn out. Not that I’d really know. I don’t cook that much. As in, never. I think this might be the second time I’m using this saucepan.

But I wanted to do something special for Dylan tonight.

I still feel like shit. He asked for honesty and I lied.

Lies of omission still count. I Googled it.

The water in the pot on the other boiler is finally boiling and I pour in the pasta, checking the box to see how long it’s supposed to cook for.

I’m definitely taking up cooking, though. Having something to do with your hands when you’re feeling lousy about stuff is turning out to be very useful. And I get the idea I’ll be feeling lousy for a while because I’ll have to keep lying to Dylan for who knows how long.

I sigh as I grab a wooden spoon and stir the noodles.

I’m about to put on the timer for nine minutes like the package said when there’s a pounding on my front door.

I frown and look toward the door. I’m not expecting a package, I don’t think. I set down the spoon and head for the door.

Looking through the peephole, I smile when I see it’s Dylan. I unlock the door and pull it open.

“Dylan?” I exclaim. “What’s wrong?”

I didn’t get a good look at him through the warped fisheye lens but he’s clearly upset. Really upset.

I reach out for him but he pushes past me into the house, dragging his hand roughly through his hair. I close the door and turn to find him pacing back and forth in the space behind the couches in my living room.

He looks terrible. I only saw him hours ago but somehow he looks like he’s aged a decade.

“Dylan,” my voice trembles. “What’s going on? You’re scaring me.”

His eyes shoot to me and they’re full of so much hurt a hole immediately punches through my chest.

“You dated Bryce Gentry.” His voice is low and gravelly, like it hurts him to even get the words out.

I take a step backwards at the name, I can’t help it.

“Is it true?”

My shoulders slump.

“Yes.”

“Jesus,” he breathes out and when I can bring myself to look back at him, it’s like all the life has drained out of him. “You knew I knew him. You knew even before we started dating.”

I nod and his jaw flexes.

“You knew I was there? That night?”

My eyes squeeze shut and my bottom lip trembles but I fight against the flood of tears choking their way up my throat.

“No. I didn’t know that until later.” I force my eyes open. He deserves the complete truth. “But I guess I always knew there was a possibility.”

He drops to his knees, his face absolutely devastated.

“Why? Why would you—?” He shakes his head and for the first time, I see tears glistening at the edges of his eyes. “Then why would you even flirt with me that night at the conference? Why would you let me—?”

It’s time. Time for the whole truth.

I suck in a breath but it still takes everything in me to keep my voice even remotely steady. “Bryce Gentry tried to break both of us. For a little while I tried to go back to being the girl I was before I met him. But there was no going back. So then I tried to be this other woman. The one everyone else sees from the outside. Confident. Unbreakable. Perfect. But I was dying on the inside because she was a lie, too.”

I beg him with my eyes to understand. “So I went looking for…” I trail off, shaking my head. “A kindred spirit? I researched you. I went to talk to the woman they said that you’d—”

He flinches back in revulsion. “So you knew what I— You knew my fucking proclivities before I even came after you that night?”

I nod, my chin wobbling so hard I have to take another huge breath. “I honestly don’t know if I was looking for someone to commiserate with or if I wanted someone else to– to hurt me and play the same fucked up games that Bryce used to.”

I take a step closer but he jerks back.

“But what I found instead was you. I never— You were never— Please, Dylan, I’m so sorry.”

He gets to his feet, holding onto the wall for strength.

“Wait, Dylan, please—don’t go.” I reach a hand toward him but he looks at it like it would burn him.

“You went looking for the monster,” he says. “And that’s what you found. Jesus, what I did to you that night.” He drags his hands down his face, with his nails like he’s trying to tear at his skin.

“You didn’t do anything to me that I didn’t want. You know I liked it. I wanted it rough.”

“So did my mother!” he shouts. “She didn’t leave either!”

I cry out at the accusation. It cuts. It cuts deep, him comparing me to the woman he never forgave.

His face is full of anguish as he backs away. “I already helped Bryce break you once. You only came back because of how deeply he scarred you. And instead of helping you heal, I’ve only been digging the knife in deeper. Keeping you broken, just like my father did my mom.”

“No!” I swallow down my hurt and focus on what’s important here. “You’re a good man. It’s your brother that’s the monster.”

“What?”

From the total confusion on his face, it’s clear he still has no idea. But I’m done with secrets.

“After you left that day we had lunch at Darren’s house, he threatened me. He said if I didn’t convince you to take the contract with my company, he’d release a video of us he’d taken that first night at the garage. He’s been having you followed. He wants you out of the company. Or at least out of the decision making. I think he might even be sabotaging your trials with the new processing chips somehow.”

Dylan just shakes his head like he literally can’t comprehend my words.

But if nothing else, I have to make him understand how dangerous his brother is.

“He hit me, Dylan. He punched me and kicked me and threatened worse.” I lift my shirt to show him the bruises on my ribs. “Please don’t trust him.”

Dylan just keeps shaking his head as he stumbles backwards toward the front door.

“Wait, Dylan, please—” I follow him but he shoves an arm out and I stop.

“Please, Dylan,” I plead. I’m shattering. Can’t he see that being with him was the first time I’ve been whole ever since Bryce. With him I’ve been able to believe that I wasn’t worthless. That I had so much value, I could change someone’s whole life.

But now— Now—

“Dylan, no.” I’m begging now and I don’t even care. “I can’t— Not without you.”

But he’s got his hand on the doorknob. He twists it and then wrenches the door open so hard, I’m shocked it’s not ripped off its hinges.

And then he turns and disappears out into the pounding rain without another look back.